


A Long Walk by the Beach

by phate_phoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kissiing, M/M, Negative References to Grant Ward, Post-Episode: s02e10 What They Become
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3258530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phate_phoenix/pseuds/phate_phoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A supply run by Mack and Fitz takes a turn when they realize they're being followed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long Walk by the Beach

**Author's Note:**

> The Ward references are super-brief and not at all important. But I wanted to give a head's-up, because I know his fans are very protective of him.

Mack worked in the garage, so that generally meant his job was to fix whatever wrecked vehicles the field agents dragged back. That wasn't normally any trouble at all, at the Playground. However, when the garage was on some uncharted island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, getting materials could be a  _problem._

Coulson, donned in his usual black suit, looked appropriately apologetic as one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s two boats was slowly being pulled into the Bus. The giant airplane was parked on one of the islands, taking up practically the entire space, with her bay doors dropping over open water. That meant travel was either by boat, or the one Quinjet.

"The thing is," Coulson offered, far more chipper than he had any right to be, "Skye's control is getting  _much_  better."

Mack just shook his head, looking at the cracked hull, broken windows, and crumpled engine of the gunmetal-grey boat. "Yeah, well," he started, "tell her I said  _thanks_  for not completely wrecking this one." They'd started with  _six boats._  Seismic-superpowers were hell on watercraft, apparently.

Fitz was already on one of their tablets, and his nose wrinkled. "We have, ah, most of the pieces for—to repair this, but," he turned the tablet around for a split-second, not near long enough for Mack to actually see anything, "we need more screws."

Coulson's brow furrowed. "What kind?"

Fitz huffed. "All of them," he muttered, not looking up. At Coulson's continued silence, Fitz's eyes snapped up and threw out his arms. "We didn't—we haven't resupplied in over a month, sir."

Mack nodded, drawing Coulson's attention, and shrugged. "We  _are_  running out of supplies, sir," he said, and then looked over at Fitz. "I didn't think it was that bad."

Coulson frowned. "Me neither. Who's on inventory?"

"Lance," Mack and Fitz replied together, and Coulson sighed.

"Figures," he said, and then shook his head. "Since we're out of basic supplies, the two of you can take the Quinjet to the mainland. Get what you need to fix this boat. I'll set up a resupply rotation when I get back."

Mack frowned, and then leaned around Coulson to look back at the water. Their only other boat was there, and it appeared empty. "Sir," Mack began, slowly, "did you  _leave Skye_  out on that island?"

Coulson simply smiled at him, and then simply turned back to the other boat. As Coulson sped away, blue tie flapping in the breeze, Mack shook his head.

"The people I work for," he muttered, and then turned to Fitz. "Well, you heard the man, Turbo. Make a list of what we'll need."

Fitz was already poking away at the tablet. "I am. I'm also taking the, ah, the…" He hesitated, eyes clenching shut for a moment. "Freedom. No."

Mack waited for Fitz to gesture at him before offering, "Liberty?"

"Yes!" Fitz said, smiling wide at him, and went back to poking the tablet. "The liberty of adding some other things. Like sunscreen."

That had Mack raising an eyebrow. "Sunscreen."

Fitz narrowed his eyes and scowled. "We're on an—an island. With minimal shade. Look at me!" he snapped when Mack started grinning, and gestured at his pale face. "Do I  _look_  like I tan? Do I  _sound_  like I tan?"

Mack kept grinning, but took the invitation to look the Scottish scientist up and down. The man  _had_  asked. "Alright, alright," he said, when Fitz started to fidget under the scrutiny. "We'll get the sunscreen. While you get that list going, I'll get the Quinjet ready." He rolled his shoulders. "It'll be nice to get off the Bus for awhile."

Fitz made a face, but turned away before Mack could ask about it.

* * *

 

It was a good thing Florida was enjoying some beautiful weather, Mack thought, because they'd spent quite a bit of time out in it. Mack had managed to talk Fitz into wearing a blue-striped t-shirt, but Fitz hadn't budged on blue jeans—something about his legs burning quicker than the rest of him. Mack, in his cargo shorts and white A-shirt, was enjoying every moment of the sunny warmth, with bright, blue, clear skies overhead—it hadn't been the worst thing to be stuck wandering along the beach.

Turned out that screws weren't too hard to find, or even the bullet-proof glass. No, what had given Mack and Fitz the biggest run-around was the damn sunscreen.

"You have to, um, have to look at the ingredients," Fitz said as they walked down the sidewalk between the main road and the beach. Fitz had smeared some of the white paste over his skin, which was already looking a little pink. "Some sunscreens can actually more-increase the chance of cancer."

Mack frowned at Fitz. Usually, Fitz could pick-up when he'd said something off, even if he wasn't sure  _what._  This time, Fitz just kept walking, eyes twitching to the cars as they passed. It made Mack nervous.

"Uh," Mack began, stepping closer to Fitz, so that they're arms were pressed together, "everything alright there, Turbo? Sun gettin' to you?"

Fitz shot Mack a too-wide smile, and alarm bells went off in Mack's head. "Actually, no, everything isn't alright," he said, still smiling even as Mack's heart jumped. "I wasn't sure, but, uh, there are—are two people following us."

Mack flinched so hard he nearly toppled Fitz over. Fitz let out a squeaky, nervous laugh, stumbling along as he gripped Mack's arm for balance. They did not change their pace. "Are you sure?" Mack hissed, fighting to keep a smile on his own face. Then he sucked in a breath. "We should call—"

"No, no," Fitz said quickly, briefly gripping Mack's right wrist with his left hand. "Right now, the only thing preventing—keeping us safe is that they think we don't know."

Mack let out a long breath. "And a finger in the ear would clue them in," he muttered, and nodded. "I got you, Turbo."

Fitz nodded back. He still had not let go of Mack's wrist. "And I  _know,_ " he continued, "because I saw them first after we left that organic store." He shook the bottle of sunscreen a little. "Kept seeing them trailing us in the, um, the—" He shook the sunscreen at Mack's face. "Reflective… cars…"

Mack's eyes grew wide. "You tracked them in the side-view mirrors."

Fitz nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah," he said. "They're the only two wearing black suits in this weather. Hard to miss. How close did you park?"

Mack's eyes moved to the cars parked along the road. "You don't remember?" he joked, forcing his tone to be light. The sidewalk behind wasn't quite  _crowded,_  but there were enough people that Mack couldn't immediately spot anyone in the mirrors at first. Then he saw them—two people dressed in black suits with dark sunglasses. He sucked in a quick breath. "Down the alleyway forty feet ahead, across the main street."

Fitz's nose wrinkled. "I'd remember better if we hadn't moved it every time we bought supplies," he grouched, and then bit his lip. "If we just—just go down there, they'll follow." He glanced at Mack. "And, no offense, but, they're probably after  _me,_  so they won't care a wit about—um—" He winced. "Killing you immediately."

Any half-considered thoughts of heroically defending Fitz died a quiet death in Mack's imagination. He scanned the area ahead of them—a line of storefronts on their left, across the main street, a beach and the ocean to their right. There was a four-way intersection about sixty feet ahead of them, with a small parking lot for the beach to the right of the street.

"We could try to slip into the crowd," Mack offered, looking at all the people along the ocean waters. "Try to lose them…"

Fitz was already shaking his head. "You stick out."

That was true. Fitz was short enough to disappear, but Mack towered over most, and was large enough to take up a lot of space on the sidewalk. Which meant that the goons were probably following  _him._

" _Don't,_ " Fitz snarled when Mack opened his mouth, "tell me to go without you."

Mack's heart was pounding. "Fitz, if they get you—"

" _I'm not losing_ —" Fitz snapped, watery blue eyes piercing Mack's. His mouth worked noiselessly, and finally he swallowed. "Any—anyone else. I'm not losing anyone else."

Mack thought of Trip, whose remains they'd gathered into an urn to send to his family. He thought of Simmons, who'd left but came back. And he even thought of that Hydra scumbag, who'd betrayed Fitz.

Around them, people were throwing concerned glances their way. Mack ignored them. "Okay, Turbo," he said, nodding. "Then what's the plan?"

Fitz swallowed again, blinking his eyes a few times. "Uh," he started, scanning the area. And then he gasped, nails digging painfully into Mack's wrist. "Mack," he breathed, eyes locked onto something by the storefronts. "There, there, look—!"

Mack turned his head, frowning. "What do you…" He trailed off when his eyes fell on someone who could have been Mack's brother: tall, bulky, and entirely clean-shaven. He was even wearing a white A-shirt. He was walking the sidewalk across the street from them, but a few paces ahead.

An idea was forming in Mack's mind. "If we can get out of their light of sight…" he began, looking at Fitz when he finally let Mack's wrist go.

"Hold this," Fitz said, shoving his sunscreen into Mack's hand. Then he was doing… so _mething_  to his watch. "And, yes," he continued, mouth curled into an actual smile. "They lose us, and follow Tall-Dark-and-Handsome instead."

Mack blinked once. Then he frowned. "Tall-Dark-and—?"

"There we are!" Fitz blurted, a little high pitched. He held up his right arm, showing off his watch. "One traffic signal preemptor ready to go!"

Mack blinked again. "From your watch?" He shook his head, grinning. "You are  _something._ "

Fitz's already pink cheeks went a bit redder, briefly. "Well, yeah," he said, and Mack rolled his eyes fondly. "It uses radio waves to—" He paused, shook his head, and smiled. "I'll explain later. Is that our alley?"

Fitz didn't point, simply twitching his head to the side. Mack looked out of the corner of his eye, and felt his stomach sink a little. "The one across the street that we're walking by? Yup."

Fitz nodded. "It's alright," he said, straightening his shoulders. "We—we have to get to the traffic lights, anyway."

When Fitz didn't say anything further, Mack raised his eyebrows. "You gonna actually explain, or just hope I don't screw up your plan?"

Fitz snorted. "It's not a—a—a Batman Gambit, or whatever," he said. "Your, ah, double will cross the road at the intersection, like us, and then I'll trigger the preemptor signal. That'll make the lights change so we can cross the intersection  _again_  and get to the correct side of the street."

"And use the cars going into the parking lot for cover," Mack finished, nodding. "Alright, Turbo. But how do we get back to the Quinjet? It's  _behind us_  now."

Fitz nodded his head at the street across from them. "There's an alley by that, uh, um,  _cafe._  Hopefully, they connect."

"And if they don't?"

Fitz grinned up at him. "Then we'll hide until they go by and double-back."

Mack stared. "Well," he finally said, "at least we'll be able to call the Bus."

"That, too."

They fell quiet, careful to keep their faces clear of tension. Mack passed the sunscreen from one hand to the other, keeping one eye on his double, and the other on the passing mirrors of cars. He could see the two suited men, still following, slowly coming closer. As they approached the last few feet of their section of sidewalk, Fitz dropped his hand to his watch.

"Okay," Fitz said, shooting Mack a quick glance. "I hope you're—uh—um—"

Mack smirked. "I'm ready when you are," he said. "And my  _'double'_  just finished crossing."

Fitz nodded, eyes darting to the other man, and then down to his watch. They stepped off the sidewalk and onto the road. The light above them was bright red. Cars waited to both get into and out of the beach-side parking lot. People were clustered. It was time.

"I think I'll have a panic attack about this later," Fitz said offhandedly, and pressed something on his watch the moment they were halfway across the street.

Above the main street, the lights instantly flicked from green to yellow, and Mack watched as it changed to red when he and Fitz stepped onto the other sidewalk. The traffic light for the parking lot turned green, and cars eagerly buzzed in and out. Mack and Fitz looked at one another, a brief pause, and then they were running across the main street and toward the line of stores.

"This is Mack to the Bus," Mack said, finger tapping against the communicator in his ear. He and Fitz didn't stop jogging, even when they reached the other side of the street, continuing down the sidewalk and toward the next alley. "Mack to the Bus! Someone answer the God damn  _phone_ —"

" _This is the Bus,"_  May's voice said, crisp in his ear.  _"This had better be_ important. _"_

"Fitz and I are being pursued," Mack said, panting. "We're trying to get back to the Quinjet—aw  _fuck._ "

" _Mack?!"_  May called, tension in her voice.

Mack stared into the alley, Fitz's breaths coming in sharp, panicked gasps just ahead of him. "We're alright, just, our escape route didn't pan out."

The alley was long, narrow, and dark, and twenty feet down it did look like it could connect with the alley they were trying to get to. But five feet in stood a tall chain-link gate. Atop that was a row of barbed wire. No place to hide, and the traffic behind them was going again—heading back was no longer an option.

" _I'm calling in Coulson and Skye,"_  May said. Mack watched Fitz looking between the two walls frantically, watched him walk over to the fence and cling to it, shake it.  _"We'll be in the air ASAP."_

Mack couldn't bring himself to say that, unless they were there in less than five minutes, it probably didn't matter. His heart was pounding, his palms were sweating. He feared for his own life. He feared for  _Fitz._

Then Fitz swung around, eyes as large as saucers. "Take off your shirt."

Mack blinked rapidly, uncertain if he'd heard that wrong, or if Fitz had said that wrong. "You wanna run that by me again, Turbo?"

"Your  _shirt,_ " Fitz said, suddenly in front of him. "You need to—the double was wearing one so  _you shouldn't._  Give it!"

Mack shook himself and said. "Agent May, I think Fitz has a plan. I'll call you back… after."

" _I have the Quinjet's tracking device activated,"_  May said.  _"Good luck."_

The call cut out, but Fitz was already taking matters into his own hands. " _Now,_  Mack!" he hissed, and actually tugged the base of Mack's shirt up.

Mack's stomach muscles jumped as Fitz's fingers brushed against his abs, but he forced himself to focus. He took over for Fitz, pulling the A-shirt over his head. "Alright, now— _what?_ "

Fitz had unzipped his jeans and was kicking them into the other corner of the alley. "Take—just take," Fitz said, stuffing his own wallet down Mack's front pocket. Mack fought the urge to twitch, and could only blink when Fitz snatched the shirt from Mack's suddenly-lax grip.

"Quick-quick-quick," Fitz was muttering, and threw the A-shirt over his own head. He caught the sleeves under his armpits, letting the shirt dangle loosely down his body, and the hem fell to his mid-thigh.

Mack could only stare, because it looked like Fitz was suddenly wearing a  _dress._  He'd had dreams sort of like this, and he half-wondered if he was in one now. "What?" he asked again, voice rougher.

Fitz swallowed audibly, meeting Mack's gaze, and then smiled awkwardly. "This is not how I planned to do this."

Mack shook his head. "Do  _wha_ — _mmph!_ "

Fitz reached up and pulled Mack's face down, pressing their lips together in an uncomfortable mashing of mouths. Mack stood, frozen, eyes still wide open. He stared down at Fitz, whose face was scrunched up and eyes clenched shut.

And then…

_Oh._

Mack surged forward, eyes slipping closed, and he pressed Fitz back against the chain-link fence with a clamor of noise. Fitz's mouth opened in shock, and Mack took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Fitz's left hand tensed around the back of Mack's neck, but then it was pulling him closer, deeper.

"Mack," Fitz gasped out, breathless, and Mack swallowed the word in their next bruising kiss. Mack's left hand curled into Fitz's hair, the other pressing the bottle of sunscreen into the fence.

Somehow, above the creaking fence and their own wet, gasping noises, Mack heard the sound of two sets of running footsteps. He tightened his grip on Fitz's hair, but did not let up on the kissing itself.

"Where'd that guy go?" Mack heard a masculine voice say. It sounded almost directly behind him, at the mouth of the alley. Fitz's breathing stuttered, his right hand grasping for Mack's belt loops.

"Fucking  _hell,_ " a feminine voice growled. "That guy was, like, as big as a  _bear._  How'd you lose him?"

"Me?!"

Fitz's hands were shaking, and his mouth barely twitched against Mack's now. Mack tugged gently on Fitz's hair, and then pushed him harder against the fence, making him gasp. The fence squeaked in response.

"Oh, gross," he heard the male voice grumble. "Buddy, take your girlfriend and get a room somewhere."

Mack growled, only half-faking it. He curled his fingers around the sunscreen tube so that just the middle one was raised high above his and Fitz's head.

"Ugh," the female voice mumbled. "Let's keep going. I think I see him going into that sandwich shop."

Their footsteps started again, this time moving away. Mack and Fitz stood against the fence, no longer kissing, just breathing against each other's mouths. When the footsteps had faded into the rest of the crowd noise, Mack finally pulled away. He couldn't keep the smile from his face. Fitz's own mouth twitched at the corners, and his cheeks had a red tinge to them that had nothing to do with the sun.

"I'll check that they're really leaving," Mack said, stepping back.

Fitz looped his arms through Mack's A-shirt, nodding, and looked steadily at the alley's back corner. "And I'll get my trousers," he said, voice rough. He smiled, but it was oddly weak, and his eyes flicked only briefly to Mack's face. "Be a shame to get arrested for public indecency after all this."

Mack let out a sharp laugh, relief and child-like joy making it impossible to stop smiling. He turned around, pressing against the alley wall, and peered around the corner. The two goons in suits were marching down the sidewalk, away from them. He scanned the other direction, just to be safe, and saw no one else in dark suits—or other suspiciously out-of-place apparel—waiting nearby.

"Looks like we're good," Mack said, turning around. Fitz was still wearing Mack's A-shirt over his t-shirt, and was just finishing buttoning his jeans.

Fitz didn't look up immediately, but slowly raised his head. "Are—are we?" he asked, eyes wide. "I-I mean," he continued, quickly, "I think I'm reading this right, but, it's really hard to tell because, you know,  _almost dying,_  and I'm not—not going to be able to concentrate on any—"

Mack walked over, cupped the back of Fitz's head, and kissed him, gently. Fitz stayed utterly silent afterward, eyes still shut. Then his mouth coiled into a blinding smile, eyes opening and looking at Mack with wonder.

"Yeah, Turbo," Mack said, his own face aching from smiling so much. "We're good."

* * *

 

It was nice to be back in the Bus, sitting on the tiny island in the middle of the ocean. Mostly it was nice to  _be safe,_  nice to know that Fitz was safe. However, that didn't make the debrief any better. Coulson sat behind his desk, Skye sitting to his left, with May lurking by the shelves behind them.

It was oddly domestic, in a creepy way.

Coulson looked a strange mixture of appalled and impressed. "A  _Fake-Out Make-Out,_ " he said, eyebrows high on his forehead. "And they fell for that?"

Skye piped up before either Mack or Fitz could. "People don't like watching other people's messy kisses," she said as she played with the heart rate monitor on her wrist. "Well, I mean, unless it's like in  _porn_  or something."

May's eyes rolled back. Coulson's expression nose-dived straight to appalled. " _Really?_ " he griped, turning to look at her.

Skye looked up, meeting his gaze, and shrugged. "What? Bobbi says she uses Fake-Outs all the time! And Mack totally looks like the kinda guy who could crush your head if he caught you staring."

Fitz's face was steadily going more and more red. Mack could only blink. "Uh, thanks?"

Skye gave him an over-the-top wink, and May let out an aggrieved groan. "Skye, stop."

"Yes," Coulson said, looking back down at his papers. "Before Fitz's head explodes."

Fitz began to sputter, ears aflame. "It—My head will  _not_  explode!"

Skye just grinned wider and went back to her wrist-mounted monitor. Coulson sighed and gestured at Mack. "Please, continue."

Mack shrugged. "After that, we double-backed to the right alley and made our way to the Quinjet, and called the Bus. And then we flew back."

Coulson tapped his pen against his desk, frowning. "This means that Fitz can't leave any of our bases without a field-trained agent," he said, scribbling something on one of several tablets splayed across his desk. "Probably the same should go for Simmons."

Fitz cringed, but didn't argue the point. Neither did Mack. Mack may have been a strong guy, but he wasn't called a  _field agent_  for a reason.

Coulson looked up at the two of them. "You did good today," he said with a small smile.

Skye leaned back in her chair, smiling. "May thinks so, too. Doncha, May?" she quipped, waving her arm in May's direction.

May's blank expression screamed agreement.

Coulson sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. "You two are free to go," he said.

Fitz nodded at him. "Thank you, sir," he said, and then nodded at Skye and May.

Mack followed his lead. "We'll be in the garage, working on the boat if you need anything."

Skye cringed. "You might need to, ah, look at the other boat, too."

Fitz's mouth dropped open, face crumpling in dismay. "Skye, you  _didn't._ "

Skye held out her hands, nose wrinkling. "So I didn't take May's call really well! Being kidnapped  _sucks,_  I know."

May sighed. "The boat just needs some dents looked at," she said.

Skye sulked, tapping her toes against the floor.

Mack just chuckled. "We can deal with a few dents," he said, and planted a hand on Fitz's shoulder. "C'mon, Turbo. You said you had an idea for dealing with dents?"

"Oh, yeah!" Fitz said eagerly. Before they could take a few steps towards the office exit, Coulson cleared his throat.

"Oh, and, Fitz? Mack?"

The pleasantness of the tone caught Mack off guard, and he slowly turned around. Fitz just turned on his heel, head tilted. "Sir?" he asked.

Coulson just smiled at them. "Congratulations."

Fitz's face went red again, and Mack could feel the heat in his own cheeks. "Thanks, sir," Mack managed to say.

Fitz smiled, nodding his head. "Yeah, uh, thanks, um. Sir."

Skye shot them a thumb's-up, and that was Mack's cue to leave. He tugged once on Fitz's t-shirt and led him out of Coulson's office.

They didn't get more than a few feet towards the garage area before they were stopped again, however. Lance, Simmons, and Bobbi were lounging around the commons area. Bobbi was grinning down at her cellphone, Simmons had a poorly subdued smile, while Lance was just out-and-out smirking.

Bobbi finally set her phone down, grin becoming far more teasing. "So," she started, eyebrows rising, "what's this I hear about a  _Fake-Out Make-Out?_ "

Fitz groaned, burying his face in his hands, but there was an amused twist to his mouth. Mack just laughed, curling his arm around Fitz's shoulders.

There was no rush. The boats, and everything else, could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. fic! I hope I did the characters justice, and I hope you enjoyed. :D


End file.
